And I Feel Fine
by catastrophechao
Summary: Summary: Some people think he's going crazy, but Yukio knows the truth: he's already arrived. This is the sequel to "Hotel California" and "How Far We've Come." I recommend you read those first, if you'd like this to make more sense.


(…And I Feel Fine)

Summary: Some people think he's going crazy, but Yukio knows the truth: he's already arrived.

Notes: The timeline is a little off in this… or is it? Don't ask Yukio, he can't tell you.

* * *

He's losing time.

It's subtle at first. The mornings pass too quickly, the evening drags on. He misses lunch, is late to dinner, doesn't know what's happened to the hours between.

He blames it on exhaustion. He hasn't been sleeping well. It doesn't feel like he's been sleeping at all.

He keeps better notes, updates his calendar, makes lists. He puts post-its around the bathroom mirror and a notebook by the bed. He color-codes, underlines, highlights.

But then he's losing days – or maybe just misplacing them. They've gotten out of order. He asks Shima how the grafting experiment went yesterday and learns it's yet to be approved. He goes to pick up his clothes from the laundry and finds himself three days late. He can't even manage the cafeteria schedule. This Friday becomes next Friday becomes last Friday. And there are notes around his mirror he can't remember writing.

The DNA recombination lab explodes Thursday afternoon, sending clouds of noxious black smoke billowing through the halls and triggering the emergency sprinkles, but it takes Yukio over a week (by his reckoning) to pin down the Monday before and warn someone. Shima laughs him off, reminds him of the multitudinous safety protocols, tells him he worries too much. "Take it easy!" he urges.

Yukio grits his teeth and drops the matter, resigning himself to four hours of decontamination that may or may not have already happened.

He finds new ways to compensate. He redirects. Keeps his questions vague. Sometimes he lies. Life on the Dominus Liminis is routine enough that he can carry on a short impersonal conversation with no one the wiser. It's always been the sort he likes best anyway.

Keeping secrets from Shima is harder. The man's a second shadow most days, and after the lab explosion (which occurs just as Yukio had said) a new wariness lurks in his eyes. He covers with awkward jokes about psychic powers and spirit guides, but his expression sharpens every time Yukio gets a date wrong.

"You should get more sleep." Shima tells him after a particularly rough morning and Yukio makes a conscious effort not to laugh at the irony. Sleep is his problem, all right, but more of it's not going to help. Some nights, he thinks it may just kill him.

"You're right," he says, "I should." Despite the repetitive nature of his dreams – _dream_, its one dream, with intermissions – these days they feel more real than his waking hours. Sometimes he thinks he hears Satan, the echoing boom of his voice – then he realizes it's just the central air kicking on, or the whine of the Liminus's engines.

Yukio resigns himself to insanity. There are more pressing things to consider.

* * *

"Tell me about possession."

Toudou blinks. "You've asked me that before," he points out.

It is disconcerting to lack any clear sense of time and yet feel, urgently, that time is running out. "When?"

"Wednesday, at lunch."

Yukio doesn't remember. Wednesday must not have happened yet. "Then tell me again."

Toudou blinks again and launches into a rambling lecture on summoning circles and polarity. He gestures with his half-empty coffee mug as he speaks. They're standing at the mouth of a hall next to a common area. There are plush mauve couches and plants with large waxy leaves and Yukio thinks it looks like the set of a movie. A pair of scientists are talking quietly nearby, the sleeves of their long white coats nearly touching.

Toudou has taken a pen from his pocket and is considering the pristine white wall. He grimaces and puts it away.

There are other demon-eaters in the compound, and Yukio has tried talking to them. Unfortunately, he finds them largely incomprehensible. One of them, a fellow with fin like appendages, talked about healing his soul and aligning his spirit to the Mask of Zora. Yukio does not ask again.

"Are you listening?" Toudou asks. There's a flat quality to his voice. He's annoyed.

"Isn't a partial summoning significantly weaker?" Yukio asks by way of answer, "Not to mention unstable."

"Weak and unstable is easy to control," Toudou counters, "you increase the power once it's integrated."

"Ah," Yukio says, which is not the same thing as agreeing. "Did you know the DNA Recombination Lab exploded?"

Toudou smiles thinly. "Almost two weeks ago, now," he says.

"Why do you suppose that happened?"

Toudou shrugs. "I heard someone was smoking by an oxygen feed."

Yukio doesn't believe it for a minute, but nods agreeably. It doesn't matter - No, that isn't true. It probably _does _matter, but Yukio doesn't care. Let the experiments fail, let the ship explode, let them all go crashing to the ground. He has other concerns.

Toudou is watching him, gold eyes considering. "And how are you doing?" he asks.

"Fine," Yukio says, "Thank you for your… professional insight," and beats a hasty retreat.

Yukio isn't the only one who knows a lie when he hears it.

* * *

When he has to explain himself, when Shima, or Lucifer, or Toudou ask him how he is and won't take a smile for an answer, he blames his hazy mental state on the experiments.

He's not sure when he agreed to them – if it hasn't happened yet, or he simply cannot remember – but he knows why he did – they make for a good cover story. It is nothing unusual to be tired following a blood draw, uncertain after an afternoon of sensory deprivation.

Of course, there's always the possibility that they're the cause of his confusion. He isn't sure what's wrong with him. He though Satan's continued presence might be affecting the structure of his being, but then again, it could just be good old fashioned brain damage.

The illuminati are still trying to figure out the extent of his abilities, and discover which, if any, belong to Yukio, rather than the echo of Satan within his eyes.

Lucifer, who cares for Yukio's well-being about as much as Yukio cares for the flying fortress, accepts his excuses with good grace. But Shima looks worried and Toudou looks annoyed and he suspects both of them of rearranging his testing schedule which does nothing for his ability to accurately gauge time.

"Nothing does anything for your ability to gauge time," Toudou informs him snappishly one evening, "It is 2:00 AM. You may come in, or you may go back to your room, but I am not standing in the hall explaining demonic possession to you. Again."

Yukio doesn't say anything, just stands in the hallway, which is, now that he considers it, less brightly lit than usual. There is nothing he _can _say. He does not remember walking to Toudou's room. Did not realize he knew where it was. Toudou sighs, ducks back inside for his robe, then proceeds to do exactly as he'd said he wouldn't, and this time he does write on the wall, drawing a series of interlocking circles that Yukio traces with a finger, the ink staining his skin.

"You're familiar with binding rituals." Toudou is saying, "I know you are because we had this conversation two days ago. Initially, the demon is bound into the host body."

"Binding on flesh is notoriously unstable." Yukio comments and Toudou sighs.

"That's why it is a risky career path."

"Do you think I would be capable of a forced possession?" Yukio asks.

It must be a new question, because Toudou looks briefly startled. He shakes his head. "I suspect Satan would burn out any demon you tried to bond with, the way he's been burning out the toxins they've introduced to your system."

Yukio nods, as if he were aware the illuminati had been experimentally poisoning him. He can't say it comes as a surprise.

"You have another trial tomorrow, don't you?" Toudou asks, voice mild enough to put Yukio on his guard.

"What's the date?" He asks. It won't help, he never knows what day it is. It's just that it sounds like a reasonable question. The sort of question a reasonable person would ask.

"The 19th," Toudou says, and waits for Yukio to nod agreement before saying, "No wait, my mistake. It's the 12th. The 27th, the 46th, April 1st." He doesn't sound mild anymore. "Take your pick."

Yukio scowls.

"What?" Toudou snaps, "It hardly matters to you. You can't tell night from day."

"I've been a little tired. I haven't been sleeping well."

Toudou doesn't look convinced. He takes Yukio by the arm and tugs him through the corridors back to his own quarters, and then waits by the door for Yukio to go inside.

"Sleep then," He orders, "I'll tell them to delay the experiment until you're more… yourself."

Yukio wonders if Toudou can see Satan in his eyes, can hear his rumbling laughter the way Yukio does. It vibrates strangely through his sinuses, like a dentist's drill, and aches along his jaw.

Yukio echoes the laugh with one of his own. Toudou doesn't realize the irony. He watches with wary golden eyes, not yet understanding that Yukio is never going to be more himself. Not if this works out the way he's hoping.

"Tell me again," he says.

* * *

Notes: Whether there is another chapter of this is going to depend on where the manga goes. If it makes sense to continue, I will. Otherwise, we'll end here


End file.
